


I Hope the Worst Isn't Over

by angelsaves



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Time, sexual crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 17:50:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1992153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsaves/pseuds/angelsaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beth and Daryl get to know each other better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Hope the Worst Isn't Over

**Author's Note:**

  * For [impertinence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/impertinence/gifts).



> This is set after Season 4, in what may potentially be an AU: I'm assuming that they will find each other again, and eventually head to Terminus. 
> 
> The title is from the Mountain Goats song "No Children."

"Daryl," Beth says. She leans forward, elbows on knees.

"Yeah?" Daryl doesn't look up from repairing the fletching on one of his arrows.

"Can I kiss you?"

"What'd you want to do that for?" He still doesn't look up, but the tips of his ears turn red. Beth counts that as a win, and moves closer.

"I like you," she says. "And I want to. Don't you miss it?"

"Never had much of a steady diet of it," Daryl says. "You miss it?"

"I never had a steady diet of kissing either. You don't want to kiss me?" She didn't think it was that bad an offer, for heaven's sake.

"Didn't say I didn't." Now he looks up at her. "Tonight."

"What?"

"Tonight," he repeats. "If you still want, you can kiss me then."

It's late morning. "I will still want," Beth says.

Daryl goes back to his arrow. "We'll see."

***

They go about their day, hunting down a few rabbits, putting down a couple of walkers, keeping the perimeter of their camp clear. It's starting to feel less makeshift, more solid -- not like a home, but Beth doesn't want that now. Not yet, or maybe ever again. A solid camp, though, that she can get behind.

Beth watches as Daryl cooks up the rabbit, turning it carefully on the spit so it browns instead of just blackening. It smells good, better than she'd ever have thought something she killed and dressed herself would smell. When it's done, Daryl rips it apart and hands her half.

"Thanks," she says, and digs in.

She goes to the creek nearby to wash her face and hands when she's done, and when she comes back, she catches Daryl looking at her over the fire. He drops his gaze quickly, but not quickly enough.

"I still want to kiss you," Beth says, putting her hands on her hips.

"Might work better if you come over here." Daryl leans back on his hands.

So she goes over to him, kneels down in front of the log he's sitting on, and plants one on him. He kisses back and -- it's not like it's the best kiss she's ever had; the boys she kissed back -- before -- were more skilled, and probably more practiced. This is artless, and hungry, and _Daryl_ , and she never wants to stop.

He pulls back, breathing hard. "Beth," he says.

"Daryl," she says, imitating his tone.

"Is that what you wanted?" Daryl's mouth is shiny and red, and God, Beth's the one who got it that way.

"Yeah," she says. "I want to do it again."

"Not gonna argue," Daryl says, and reaches for her. He tangles one hand in her hair, and she climbs into his lap to get better leverage. Daryl kisses with his full attention, like there's nothing he'd rather be doing and nobody he'd rather be doing it with. She hopes she's making it worthwhile.

When Daryl moves to kiss under her jaw -- oh, that's a good place to kiss, she likes that -- Beth gasps and says, "We could have sex."

"What?" He's all mussed now, his hair sticking up in cowlicks.

"Sex," she repeats. "Us. We could have it."

"We could keep doing this," Daryl says. He strokes the back of her neck. "This is good."

"Just because I'm a virgin doesn't mean I don't know what I want," Beth says.

"You're a virgin?" For a moment, she's afraid he's going to push her off his lap, but he doesn't. "Then we're definitely not."

"I thought guys liked that," Beth says. Her voice sounds weirdly small to her own ears. "Don't you want me?"

"Didn't say I don't." He pats her hair, awkwardly, and she leans into the touch like a cat. "Just not tonight."

"Why not?" 

"You think I can't go slow?" Daryl asks.

"I think _I_ can't go slow," Beth retorts.

"I don't want to be -- fucking -- peach schnapps!" he snaps. "You deserve better."

"You're not peach schnapps." Beth kisses him and tries to make it a convincing one. She wants him. She wants _this_.

Daryl kisses back, and Beth plasters herself against him, but when they break apart for air, he says, "Rules."

" _Rules_ ," Beth repeats in disbelief. "The world's fallen apart, the dead are walking, and you want _rules_?"

"Yeah," Daryl says. "If we're going to do this, we're going to do it right."

"But we're going to do it?" Beth asks, zeroing in on the important part of the statement.

He strokes her hair again, more confidently this time. "Yeah," he says. "If you want."

***

The rules are simple. One step at a time, and only in the camp, and only if Beth still wants to.

"That's a stupid rule," she argues, but Daryl could out-stubborn a rock, and he says it's important, so the stupid rule stays.

They go to sleep in their separate sleeping bags. Beth doesn't know about Daryl, but she falls asleep as easy as falling off a log, feeling pretty satisfied with herself.

When she wakes up, the sun is streaming through the trees, and Daryl is making arrows across the firepit from her.

"Morning, sleepyhead," he says.

"Morning," Beth says, and yawns. She stretches luxuriously, like a cat, and she's surprised and pleased to notice that Daryl watches her do it. "Enjoying the view?" she asks.

"Am I allowed to?" Daryl flicks a glance upward.

"You bet," Beth says, then hurries to add, "And that doesn't count as a step."

Daryl grins and crosses his arms. "Then do it again."

So she does, and she can practically feel his gaze on her, like she imagines his hands will feel. "We don't have to wait until dark for the next step, do we? Because I want to touch you," Beth says.

"Oh yeah?" Daryl scratches his chin like he's thinking. "Guess we could do that. Come here."

Beth goes over and sits in his lap again. His hands come up to the small of her back, holding her in place, and she wriggles happily. She works her hands under his vest, feeling the wiry muscle of his back through his thin shirt.

When he touches her side through her tank top, tentatively, she shifts so he's touching the side of her breast instead, and they both make the same noise, a soft groan.

"Come on," Beth says, putting her hand over his and moving it, just a little.

"I'm taking my time," Daryl says. He moves his hand slowly, so slowly, until he's cupping her breast, and thumbs her nipple. Beth muffles her groan by kissing him, and she can feel him smiling against her mouth. "You like that, huh?"

"Yeah, I like it," she says. "Think you do too?"

"One way to find out." He lets her slide her hands inside his shirt, up to his nipples, and it turns out he does like it; they harden under her fingertips, and he makes another soft sound.

"Take off your shirt," Beth suggests.

"That's another step," he says.

"Is not. It's all... I forget what base it is, but it's all the same one if we keep our pants on."

"You're the expert, huh?" But he lets her peel his shirt off, and the sounds he makes when she flicks her tongue out over one nipple is probably the best thing she's ever heard.

"Now me," she says, and helps Daryl get her tank top up and over her head.

"Oh," he says, and bends his head to do the same back to her.

" _Oh_ ," Beth says. His mouth on her breast feels so good that the other one feels lonely; almost without thinking about it, she reaches up to roll her nipple between her fingers.

"Thought that was just in porn," Daryl says, and Beth laughs.

"Guess not," she says. "It feels good."

He tries it, their fingers bumping together, and then she tries biting one of his -- just gently, just to see, but it startles him, and he topples backwards off the log with an "Oof!" 

Beth lands on top of him, of course. "Sorry," she says, and resettles herself so she's straddling him.

"Nah, I like it. Come up here." He leans up on his elbows, and she presses against him to kiss him, liking the way their skin feels together, the mild scratch of the hair on his chest, and -- as she moves even closer -- the bulge in his jeans against her thigh.

"Whoa," Daryl says, taking her by the waist and hauling her up. "That's definitely another step."

"It might not be," Beth tries to argue, but Daryl is firm.

"Come on," he says. "Rules are rules."

"Fine." She scoots back on his thigh a modest distance. "Better?"

He grins at her. "Wouldn't say that, exactly."

Beth wants to be a little mad, but she can't help kissing him instead.

***

That night, Beth decides to touch herself. It's not that she's never -- but she hasn't like this, not with intent. She knows she's going to want to tell Daryl what she likes, so, logically, she needs to figure out what she likes first.

In the beginning, it just feels sort of weird, like feeling the inside of her mouth. Maybe it's sort of like kissing, that way: her own tongue in her mouth is nothing special, but Daryl's in there sure is. And then that thought makes her think about Daryl's fingers in her -- in her _pussy_ , she thinks firmly. If she can't talk about it in her head, she can't do it; that's her own rule.

And oh, that thought is a good one. Something changes; she gets a little more slippery, and she finds a spot that feels good when she touches it. A little harder -- not quite that hard -- and Beth bites her lip. Now she gets it.

There's a noise from the other side of the fire pit, and for a moment, Beth is afraid there's a walker -- but no, it's followed by the rustle of Daryl's sleeping bag. Just the sleeping sounds of a man who's very much alive, and oh, goodness, what if he isn't asleep at all? What if he's doing the same thing she is, right now?

Beth rubs a little faster, thinking about Daryl thinking about her. It's a little like a snake swallowing its own tail, but it's a nice thought, oh, yes, it is.

All of a sudden, she has a feeling like squeezing and releasing and singing all at the once. She curls up in her sleeping bag, riding through it. That must be what coming is like, she realizes. It's not bad, that's for sure.

Part of Beth wants to see if she can do it again -- just for practice, of course -- but the rest of her is sinking into sleep, and fast. Just before she lets herself fall, she hears another little groan out of Daryl, and smiles.

***

Everything seems more interesting with this new development in Beth's life. It's not that she's deliberately trying to do things sexily -- that just seems like a disaster waiting to happen -- but she's conscious of her body as a sexy thing, and it's fun. She likes the feeling that Daryl is watching her and enjoying it, and she likes watching him, too, even when he's doing something boring or gross.

That's what gives her the idea. "I know what our next step should be," she says, nuzzling the side of his neck.

"Yeah? What's that?" One of his hands trails lazily down her back.

"I want to watch you jerk off."

Daryl stiffens. "You want to what?"

"And you can watch me, too," Beth continues blithely. "Don't you want to?"

"With you watching?" He shakes his head slowly. His ears are turning red. "Girl, you're a bag of surprises."

Beth grins and tweaks his nipple through his shirt. "That didn't sound like a no," she says.

"Not much to see," Daryl says. "Probably some funny faces."

"Yeah, but it's you," Beth says.

He kisses her, letting his hand wander down far enough to squeeze her butt. She yelps, and he grins. "You sure?" he asks.

"Yes," she says, and tugs at the hem of his shirt.

"All right." Daryl skins out of his clothes quickly, like he's going to go skinny-dipping in a freezing cold river, then lies down on top of his sleeping bag, on his side. 

Beth perches on the nearest log, where she can get a good view. She's seen naked men before -- not many, but a couple -- and she likes what she sees. He must not hate this idea too much, because his dick is already getting hard against his thigh when he licks his palm and takes it in hand.

Then she decides that she can't see well enough from here, so she gets off the log and knee-walks to Daryl's sleeping bag, settling herself behind him like the bigger spoon. "Rules," Daryl says almost desperately when she kisses the knob of his spine, but he doesn't stop; he only goes faster.

"I won't touch it if you don't want," Beth says innocently. "I just want to get a better view."

Daryl groans. The head of his dick is purple in his hand, and she really does want to touch it, but she'll wait. "Driving me crazy," he says.

"You think you're not driving _me_ crazy?" she says. "At least you're letting me look. I like to look at you."

He makes a noise that's halfway between a laugh and a sigh. HIs dick looks shinier now. She has a feeling that's a good sign.

"You like hearing me talk, don't you," she says, and he nods jerkily. "So I'll keep going. You know what I was doing last night?"

"Had my guess," Daryl manages to say.

"I was touching myself," she tells him, "and when I thought about you doing it instead, it got better. Is it like that for you?"

"Yeah," he says, and Beth cheers inside.

"Good," she says. "I want to touch you. I want to know what you feel like everywhere." She strokes his chest, as far down as she dares, and Daryl makes a choked-off noise and comes all over his hand. Before he can stop her, Beth gets a little on her fingers so she can taste it. It's not bad -- she wouldn't frost a cake with it, but she doesn't mind it.

"Can I kis you?" she asks, and he reaches up for her with his clean hand, cupping her face.

"That wasn't so bad," he says finally. "Your turn?"

Beth grins. "My turn," she says. "Move over." She wriggles out of her clothes -- and just as she gets naked, there's the _clang_ of a walker running into their fence.

"Hold that thought," Daryl says. Still naked, he pulls his hunting knife out of his belt. One moment, there's the throaty gargle of a walker trying to get at them; the next, Daryl's knife goes _thunk_ into its skull, and it shuts up. Daryl kicks it away from the perimeter and comes back to Beth.

"Thanks," she says.

"You're welcome." He sits down next to her. "Sorry to break the mood."

"Actually..." Beth bites her lip and glances over at him. "It didn't." He looks at her incredulously, and she hurries to say, "Not the _walker_. I meant -- you. Protecting me from it."

"Protecting _us_ ," he corrects her.

Beth grabs him by the ears and kisses him soundly for that. When she lets him go, he grins. "Wasn't there something you were going to do?"

"You mean this?" She twists in his arms so her back is pressed against his chest, and slips one hand down between her legs. "I could do that. I could do it better if you touched me, though."

"Hmm, could do that." He takes her breasts in his hands, and the calluses on his hands feel wonderful.

"Yeah, like that," Beth says, finding that spot again. "And I can think of how much better it'd be if your hands were a little lower down -- oh --"

He shifts a little. Beth thinks it might be because he's getting hard again, and she likes that. "Keep going," he says, half whisper.

"It feels so good," she tells him. "I want it to be you, Daryl, oh, hell, kiss me --" and she comes with his mouth on hers, shaking like a leaf.

When she's done, she snuggles up against him and says, "Good night."

"You taking my bed?" Daryl asks, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear.

"Sharing," she says. "It's warmer that way."

"Let me put my shorts on," he says.

"You don't --" She yawns. "-- have to."

He does anyway, but then he wraps himself around Beth and holds her close, and she thinks sleepily that she's got no complaint.

***

Beth wakes up thinking she's still dreaming, that no way did she really wake up with Daryl clinging to her like an octopus -- but no, that's really what's happening. She smiles to herself and tucks her self back more snugly against him.

"Mmm," he says, and she can feel the bristle of his stubble under her ear. "Morning."

"Good morning," Beth says. "I bet I can make it an even better one."

"That so?" He kisses her neck, soft little kisses like she never would have expected.

"Yeah. Roll over," she orders him. Now she's got him in her arms, and she can reach down to the fly of his shorts. "I want to touch you."

She feels him tense, then relax, slowly, like it's on purpose. "Okay," he says.

"You sure? If you don't want..."

"I want," Daryl says hoarsely.

"Okay," Beth says. "Tell me if I do it wrong." She reaches into his shorts and gets her hand around his dick. It's both harder and softer than she expected, and the skin slides easily in her grip.

Daryl gasps, and Beth kisses his neck as she jerks him off. She doesn't know what she mutters in his ear, nonsense probably, but from the way his hips buck up against her hand, he can't get enough.

When he comes, she's pretty sure the word he swallows was her name.

"Was that good?" she asks him, even though she's pretty sure she knows the answer.

He twists around to give her a wry smile. "Don't think I need to tell you," he says. She gasps in mock outrage, and he kisses her.

Kissing turns into wrestling, and Beth holds her own for a good long while. Daryl gets her pinned, finally, but, breathing hard, Beth thinks that she isn't sure who's won.

"Tell me how," Daryl says. "Don't want to hurt you." He reaches tentatively down between her legs, and she arches up, feeling the slide of his fingers.

"You won't," she says with certainty. "I don't have a special one, or anything."

Daryl cuts his eyes away from hers, just as his knuckle grazes her clit with a sharp burst of pleasure.

'You're not saying --" She interrupts herself with a moan, because damn, but that felt good. "-- that you've --"

"Not saying nothing," Daryl says, and does it again. "You like that?"

"Oh, God, yes," Beth says. "Wait, a little to the right -- not that far -- oh, God, don't stop!"

It's the look on his face when she comes, like he's discovered something amazing, that reminds Beth of what she was asking him. She rolls onto her stomach and props herself up on her elbows. 'Daryl, have you done this before?"

He looks away again. "Not -- exactly," he says.

"Not exactly?" she presses.

"I've done -- stuff." He looks at his hands. "Before."

"But you've never..." Beth doesn't know how she wants to phrase it. At last, she says, "So we're... learning together?"

"Could say that." Daryl glances down at her. He looks a little nervous.

"Good," she says, and takes his hand in hers. He smiles, and it might be the best thing she's ever seen.

***

"I don't get it," Beth says. "What are we going in there for?" The convenience store has walkers in it -- she can see them, for heaven's sake. What do they even need?

Daryl looks at her sideways. "Come on," he says, and takes out his hunting knife, like it's obvious.

A week ago, even, Beth might have tried to out-stubborn him and stood there, waiting for him to explain himself. Today, she knows there wouldn't be a point. She gets out her own knife and gets ready to put down some walkers.

It's like a machine, how well they work together. Finally, they step over the last walker -- Beth carefully doesn't think about how young it looked -- and into the convenience store. She still doesn't know what they're doing here, but Daryl makes a beeline for the counter and vaults over it easily.

He's stuffing something in his backpack when Beth hears it: a walker's moan. But where? And then she feels it grab her ankle -- not a walker, exactly, more of a crawler. She doesn't scream, just puts it down with a quick stab that's nearly reflex.

Daryl's watching her when she looks up from wiping off the blade. He looks kind of proud. "Good job," he says, jumping down from the counter.

"Thanks," Beth says. "Did you get what you came for?" She hopes it's not chewing tobacco. Spitting has always grossed her out.

"Yep." He pats his backpack.

"Good. Let's get out of here."

On their way back to camp, they cross a set of train tracks, and a handmade sign catches Beth's eye. TERMINUS, it says, in black letters two inches high, and there's a map. She looks at Daryl. Daryl looks back at her.

"If there were any other survivors," she begins, then trails off.

"They'd go there," Daryl finishes for her. "You want to?"

Beth hesitates. "We probably should," she says. "But not today. It's too late to get started."

Daryl's shoulders relax a little. "Yeah," he says. "Not today."

The sun is still high when they reach their camp. "Are you ever going to tell me what you got?" Beth asks, breaking the comfortable silence.

Daryl sits down on one of the logs and opens his bag. Inside is a box that looks -- oh. "Condoms," he says, possibly the first unnecessary thing Beth's ever heard him say.

"Oh," she says, and then, " _Oh_."

"We don't have to, right away, if," Daryl says, and Beth kisses him. 

"Yes," she says. "I want to. I want _you_."

He smiles at her. "Thought maybe we'd find a house," he says, "do it in a bed like we're civilized."

Beth shudders. "Someone else's bed? No thank you. I'd much rather do it here, in our own camp."

"Whatever you want," Daryl says, so she kisses him again.

It's hard to set up a sleeping bag when you don't want to stop kissing, it turns out, but they manage somehow, that and getting themselves undressed. Getting the condom on takes two tries, but, thank God, the box Daryl took has plenty. And then -- then she's on her back, with Daryl braced above her, and she feels so good her heart might burst with it.

"Come on, do it," she says. "I want you to."

"Okay," he says, and thrusts in. She can feel herself stretching around him, and it feels so good that she can't help but moan. "Good?" he asks, looking worried.

"So good," Beth says. "You?"

In answer, he leans down to kiss her. She kisses back, roling her hips up to meet his thrusts, and when he moves, she feels wetness on her chee,.

"Are you crying?" she asks him softly.

"No," he says, then touches his cheek. He looks surprised when it comes away wet. "Maybe."

"Do you cry when you're happy?" She refuses to entertain any other possibility.

"Don't know," Daryl says. He runs one hand down her body, looking at her like she's beautiful. "Never been this happy before."

"Me neither," Beth tells him. His whole face lights up, and she pulls his head down to kiss away his tears.

Then she rolls them over, and the real fun begins. She can control the pace this way, and when she leans down just right, Daryl can get his mouth on her breasts. It seems like time stretches out, just holding the two of them, and then she's coming, like a splash of cold water on a muggy day, saying Daryl's name over and over.

"Beth," Daryl whispers back, and he comes too, arching up to meet her.

A little while later, when they've cleaned up and curled up together, she touches his cheek. He's washed away the tear tracks, but she knows where they were by heart. "That was a lot better than I imagined my first time," she says, then, all in a rush, "I think I love you."

He puts his hand over hers. "Me too."

"Are we going to Terminus tomorrow?" she asks.

"Guess so," Daryl says. "Together."


End file.
